


Spellbound

by LassieLowrider



Series: COC2019 [23]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Gen, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LassieLowrider/pseuds/LassieLowrider
Summary: Simon received a music box for Christmas one yearor: all's well and good until his emotional support music box breaks
Series: COC2019 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553869
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for COC2019 day 23 prompt: musicians

**Simon**

The first Christmas present I got, the first I knew was for me and actually bought for me, I received that when I was nine. It sounds like I had the worst, absolutely most deprived childhood ever when I put it like that, but honestly - when you’re one of several foster kids in a foster home, you’ll have to be happy if you get  _ any  _ presents, much less a personalised one. 

That Christmas, I did.

It was the prettiest music box I’d ever seen - not that I’d seen many, I should admit that. I did see quite a few, in the years to follow, but none of them ever really measured up. Maybe that was only because the one I got was  _ mine  _ and no one else’s.

The artwork in the music box was exquisite, a word I’d learnt far later but immediately applied to it. It played a difficult-to-place tune when you opened it, but what was easy to place - and what had had me spellbound ever since I first saw it, way before I learnt spell-binding was actually a thing that some people could do - was the orchestra playing it. 

As the orchestra played, minuscule mechanisms making their arms move, a lone pair of dancers waltzed. I spent hours, that first night, just watching. My then-current caretaker wound it for me whenever it stopped and, hadn’t I fallen asleep with my head pillowed on my arms, I could’ve sat there forever.

I brought it with me to Watford, and the stress I felt over packing it was nothing compared to when I  _ unpacked  _ it. What if it had been broken? What if it wouldn’t play? What if I’d forgotten the key?

Everything worked out quite well, actually, and it worked as it should when I finally placed it on the desk I’d claimed as mine. I know I heard Baz - then only my new roommate, not yet a mortal enemy - snort when he saw it, but he didn’t say anything. Had he said anything I probably would’ve punted him out the window, Anathema be damned.

I took a leap of faith that summer, hoping that - even if the Anathema didn’t extend to belongings - Baz would have some sort of decency and  _ not  _ touch my music box. That particular leap of faith paid off, actually; I got to keep the music box safe, I didn’t have to pack it with me to foster home after foster home, and it was almost like regaining a limb whenever I got back to the shared room after every summer.

That is, until the start of term for our sixth year. When I wound the music box I heard something snap, an almost inaudible sound, but somehow I knew. Something had happened, something that really shouldn’t happen.

Opening the box, releasing the mechanism, winding it, nothing helped. It was broken. 

If I broke upon realising that, well, no one would tell. I thought Baz would, but he didn’t say anything - just sat down next to me, not touching but close enough I could feel him breathing. Unconsciously I matched my breathing to his, and managed to calm down enough to fall asleep. Or I hyperventilated and passed out, the jury’s not decided on that one just yet.

What I do know for sure is that, come the next morning, my music box was gone. No trace remained of the thing I actually treasured the most. I was so cried out from realising it was broken I couldn’t actually process it being gone entirely, so I just shut off. 

I didn’t even think about the music box for several weeks, whenever I saw the spot - slightly darker than the surrounding wood - where I had kept it, I just pretended I hadn’t ever seen it, and there’d been nothing there. 

Ignoring your issues makes them go away. Most of the time. Okay, some of the time. 

Fine, ignoring the issues rarely makes them go away, but it’s far more comfortable to ignore them than actually solve them. 

Of course, the habit had quickly gotten so ingrained that when I looked at the music box standing where I’d last seen it, I just as quickly looked away. 

I actually managed to have a shower before I realised what, exactly, I had seen. I burst out of the bathroom, dripping water and with only a towel wrapped around my hips, standing stock still by my desk, just staring at the music box. 

I kept my eyes on it the whole time I spent getting dressed. It is a bit difficult getting your trousers on when you’re not looking at your feet, but I managed.

My hands shook when I went to wind it, I know that much. Nothing compared to how my entire body shook when that tiny orchestra played the undefinable waltz and the equally tiny couple danced perfectly to the tune. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Baz snap his book closed and head out of the room. 

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I had No Idea when writing this.
> 
> I did get a good idea for the last day, so all hope is not lost just yet.


End file.
